If you’re like I was, and you’ve never heard of an MC5-esque black punk band from Detroit called “Death,” A Band Called Death is going to take a long time getting you there. But when it does, hold onto your handkerchiefs because shit’s about to get touching.  In telling the story of a forgotten punk trio with a vision, Drafthouse’s new documentary from Mark Covino and Jeff Howlett bears more than a passing similarity to the 2013 Oscar-winning documentary Searching for Sugar Man. Amazingly, it might be even harder to get through without tearing up, at least for lesser viewers (NICE TRY, PUNKS, THESE EYEBALLS DON’T RUN, OOH RAH!). And while A Band Called Death might suffer a bit for having been pre-empted thematically, Searching for Sugar Man had to massage the truth a bit to spurt that heartwarming ending. They conveniently left out the part where Rodriguez toured Australia with Midnight Oil years after we’re led to believe that he assumed he’d been forgotten. Sorry, bros, that’s cheating. To my knowledge, A Band Called Death doesn’t commit any similar lies by omission, and in any case, the unfairly-forgotten rockstar story it has to tell is even wilder and more emotional. And I mean that in a good way, not in a bipolar actress kind of way.

Raised in Detroit, David, Bobby, and Dannis Hackney are three brothers – by virtue of biology as well as by being three black guys hanging out together in the seventies – who dreamed of playing loud and kicking ass like The Who. They called themselves “Death,” based on a vision David had while staring at the clouds, and in 1974, recorded a demo of fast, hard-driving rock songs that inadvertently stole the balls-out sound of later bands like The Ramones, Bad Brains, the Sex Pistols, et. al. Only no one wanted to buy it at the time, mainly because the band was called “Death.” Which doesn’t seem like that much worse of a name than “The Who” or “The Guess Who,” but whatever. They could’ve just changed the name, but hey, man, you don’t argue with clouds. The demo collected dust in an attic somewhere for a while, while the members of the band gradually gave up and went on their separate ways, playing, at various times, Christian soul music, and cheesy reggae, with songs like “Fire Up the Ganja,” which might be the most generic-sounding reggae track of all time.

And then… And then…

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If I had more artistic talent, my review of Upstream Color would just be a text drawing of a pig made of question marks. I consider that the most accurate representation of the experience. I looked down at my notebook after the screening, and the last thing I’d written was “what the f*ck just happened?”

During the post-screening Q & A, a chubby 20-something with a beard raised his hand, and, sounding tentative, asked for a literal interpretation of the plot. Director Shane Carruth was not present, but lead actress Amy Seimetz, suddenly no longer sheepishly cupping her elbow with her hand or playing with her pixieish bob, straightened up, looked at the kid incredulously, and asked “You just saw Upstream Color and you want a literal interpretation?”, openly disdainful of the idea that a person could even want such a thing. Standing with Seimetz onstage, actor Andrew Sensenig helpfully offered “It’s about how you have to find your pig.” Asked about how much of the story the actors understood as they were filming the project, the four or five of them just looked at each other for a few long seconds. Seimetz was the first to speak, offering,”Well, it’s Shane, you know?”

Welcome to Upstream Color, and the weird, culty world of Shane Carruth, Upstream Color‘s director, writer, producer, co-star, cinematographer, editor, sound designer, and soon, distributor. If it’s “something different” you’re after, Upstream Color is your movie. But be careful what you wish for.

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Author’s rendering. I haven’t seen it, so I just assumed the ass baby looks like Danny Masterson.

My biggest regret of the SXSW festival, other than leaving my credit card in a bar that didn’t open for the next two days, was not being able to catch Milo, a movie starring Party Down‘s Ken Marino, whose actual festival synopsis was “A man discovers that his chronic stomach problems are due to the fact that he has a demon baby living in his colon.” (*sigh*) I know that feel, bro.

Well now you might actually have a chance to see it, as Magnet has acquired the distribution rights.

The sale for MILO was completed late Friday night, making it the last deal to close during this year’s SXSW.
Directed by Jacob Vaughan, written by Vaughan and Benjamin Hayes, Duncan’s (Ken Marino) life is a real pain in the ass.  Tormented by manipulative, crooked boss (Patrick Warburton), a nagging mother (Mary Kay Place), a deadbeat new age dad (Stephen Root), and a sweet, yet pressuring, wife (Gillian Jacobs), his mounting stress starts to trigger an insufferable gastrointestinal reaction.  Out of ideas and at the end of his rope, Duncan seeks the help of a hypnotherapist (Peter Stormare), who helps him discover the root of his unusual stomach pain: a pintsized demon living in his intestine that, triggered by excessive anxiety, forces its way out and slaughters the people who have angered him.  Out of fear that his intestinal gremlin may target its wrath on the wrong person, Duncan attempts to befriend it, naming it Milo and indulging it to keep its seemingly insatiable appetite at bay. [official press release]

Ken Marino, Patrick Warburton, Peter Stormare (aka Karl Hungus), Stephen Root, and Gillian Jacobs is an unstoppable cast. Unfortunately, Magnet has a history of acquiring solid genre movies - Goon, Tim & Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie, Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning, Hobo With a Shotgun, the list goes on – that it doesn’t seem like anyone has seen. They’re great at buying up smaller movies that deserve to be seen, but I’m not sure how good they are at actually getting those movies seen. For instance, now would be a great time to release a trailer. It’d be a real shame if the demon baby in Ken Marino’s ass didn’t get some eyeballs on it.

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In the past I’ve done these photo diary posts for Comic-Con and Sundance, so I thought, why not do another one for SXSW? That’s way easier than coming up with something new! And for you, it’ll be just like you’re here, but without any of the good parts. So anyway, here goes. Above, you can see the placard for the Vimeo Theater panel entitled, “A Conversation with Matthew McConaughey,” which didn’t turn out quite as amazing as I’d hoped, mainly due to a distinct lack of shirtlessness or talk of borrowed hoodies. But it was still unmissable for obvious reasons. We’ll get to all that in a second, but in the meantime – is this not some of the most intriguing signage ever?! Controversial, but I say yes.

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This week on the Frotcast, I bloop in from SXSW, and Bret bloops in from New York, and we talk about SXSW movies – Spring Breakers, Upstream Color, Loves Her Gun, Mr. Angel – the Matthew McConaughey panel, Texas brisket vs. Central California tri tip, Bret tells us about his tiny, tiny apartment, and what it was like to get tweeted at by Susan Sarandon. Lady doesn’t like tacos. I don’t know what the f*ck is wrong with her. Enjoy.

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